


Goodbyes Are Hardest

by TheMageRebellion



Series: OTP: The Magister and the Hunter [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Trespasser, if i cried ur gonna cry, these two gdi, they didn't break up it's a long distance relationship guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 04:09:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6550165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMageRebellion/pseuds/TheMageRebellion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anon requested "Why are goodbyes so hard?" on tumblr.</p>
<p>Six months after the Exalted Council, Olwyn and Dorian part ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goodbyes Are Hardest

**Author's Note:**

> I've been having a bad run, and the lovely anon sent me a prompt on tumblr. <3
> 
> I may have snuck my bb Zara Trevelyan in here as part of a companion!au I will never write. Make of that what you will.

            It had been six months since the Exalted Council, and the longest six months of Olwyn Lavellan’s life. Six months of paperwork, meetings, and training with the arm Dagna had slaved to perfect—the runes now perfectly functional (after one or two minor accidents), and Olwyn could _finally_ shoot a bow once more as though he’d never lost his limb to begin with.

            Of course, he’d trained _without_ the arm as well. Cullen had shown him how to properly wield a sword, though he was hardly as skilled as the former Templar. It had taken many hours and quite a bit of frustration on both their parts to finally get him to wield it decently.

            It had also been six months of Olwyn desperately wishing for time to go slower.

            Dorian, the elf’s lover of nearly three years, had agreed to return to Skyhold for a short time—their last together for what was certain to be a long while. After all, Tevinter was hardly the safest place for an elf—Dalish or otherwise—and Olwyn knew that if he accompanied Dorian he’d only do Dorian’s work himself.

            When the day finally came to leave Skyhold, many tears were shed between the former Inquisitor and his advisors. (Or the two that remained since Leliana’s coronation as Divine two years earlier.)

            “Please take care of yourself,” Josephine whispered in his ear as she hugged him tight. “And write as often as you can! And if you ever find yourself in Antiva, you will always find yourself welcome with House Montilyet.”

            “I’ll keep that in mind,” Olwyn said, feeling the tears prick at his eyes. Creators, he missed them already.

            Cullen shook his hand after Josie pulled away. “It was an honor to serve with you, Inquisitor.”

            “The same to you, my friend,” he replied. “Is Zara still meeting you in Redcliffe?”

            Both smiled at the thought of Olwyn’s former companion and Cullen’s fiancée. “I got a letter the other day saying that she was on her way,” Cullen said. “Apparently it took less time than normal to settle things with the College of Enchanters.”

            “Then I wish the best of luck to both of you.” Olwyn bowed. “And tell Zara I owe her for the poultice. It’s certainly eased some of the pain left by the Anchor.”

            Cullen chuckled. “I will pass it on.”

            Dorian was at his elbow then. “Undoubtedly she will write in three months’ time to tell you she has ‘worked out the kinks’ in the recipe and demand you serve as a test subject.”

            All three laughed at that.

            The group parted and Olwyn mounted his hart, Esyllt. He turned to Dorian. “Ready?”

            “Always, amatus,” the mage said with a wink.

            Without a backwards glance, Olwyn Lavellan, now _formerly_ Lord Inquisitor, left Skyhold for the last time.

* * *

 

            Olwyn and Dorian had agreed to part in Cumberland. From there Dorian would go north to Tevinter to take up his father’s place in the Magisterium, and Olwyn east to be with his clan in Wycome. It wasn’t a parting Olwyn wished, yet it had to be.

            A week after they left Skyhold, the lovers stood outside the gates of the massive Nevarran city. Dorian had arranged to travel with a merchant caravan all the way to the Tevinter capital of Minrathous, and they patiently waited while the lovers said their goodbyes.

            “We’ll talk as often as we can, yes?” Olwyn asked for the fifth time.

            “Certainly, amatus,” Dorian replied with his usual winning smile—though Olwyn could see the obvious pain behind his eyes. “Two or three times a day if our schedules allow. I can’t have you forgetting the sweet sound of my voice, now can I?”

            The elf laughed, though he could feel his heart convulse in pain. “Certainly not!”

            Both fell silent, staring at each other like they expected the other to talk first. _Creators, this is harder than I’d thought it would be._ “Dorian, I—” Olwyn burst just as Dorian said, “Olwyn—”

            They paused, waiting for the other to finish. “You go first,” Olwyn said.

            Dorian took his hand. “Olwyn, I don’t wish to be parted with you. Maker knows how much this has hurt, watching you these last six months and praying that I could spend the rest of my days with you despite my duty. I can only imagine what you’re going through and I…” He huffed a curse in Tevene under his breath, wiping at his eyes. “Olwyn, what I mean to say is that… I love you, amatus. And I hope that we are not parted for long.”

            Olwyn sucked in a quick breath as a few tears leaked free. “Dorian… _Emma lath_ …” He reached up and cupped his cheek in his hand. “ _Ar lath, ma vhenan._ I won’t say goodbye, because, Creators willing, we’ll be together again soon.”

            The mage pulled him close and pressed their lips together in an urgent, all-consuming kiss that left Olwyn breathless. It was messy, all teeth and tongue and whispered, loving praise, but it was the most perfect kiss Olwyn had ever had.

            Eventually they parted and Dorian gave him a watery smile. “Remember,” he murmured gently, “I’m only a sending crystal away.”

            With that, Dorian mounted his horse and gave a small wave goodbye. Olwyn returned it, though his smile was weak.

            _I don’t know if you’re listening, Creators,_ he thought, _but if you are, please keep_ ma vhenan _safe._

            Olwyn watched until he could no longer see the caravan, the wind of late winter biting through his cloak and ruffling his too-long hair.

**Author's Note:**

> Every kudo, comment, and bookmark makes me happy <33333


End file.
